accompanied by his son Philip, his daughter the archduch- B O O K ess, his sisters the dowager Queens of France and Hunga ry, XII. 1556. and reception there. His voyage was prosperous, and he arrived at Laredo in His arrival Biscay on the eleventh day after he left Zealand. As soon as he landed, he fell prostrate on the ground; and considering himself now as dead to the world, he kissed the earth, and said, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked I now return to thee, thou common mother of mankind." From Laredo he pursued his journey to Burgos, carried sometimes in a chair and sometimes in a horse litter, suffering exquisite pain at every step, and advancing with the greatest difficulty. Some of the Spanish nobility repaired to Burgos, in order to pay court to him, but they were so few in number, and their attendance was so negligent, that Charles observed it, and felt, for the first time, that he was no longer a Monarch. Accustomed from his early youth to the dutiful and officious respect with which those who possess sovereign power are attended, he had received it with the credulity common to Princes, and was sensibly mortified, when he now discovered, that he had been indebted to his rank and power for much of that obsequious regard which he had fondly thought was paid to his personal qualities. But though he might have soon learned to view with unconcern the levity of his subjects, or to have despised their neglect, he was more deeply afflicted with the ingratitude of his son, who, forgetting already how much XII. 1556. BOOK he owed to his father's bounty, obliged him to remain some weeks at Burgos, before he paid him the first moiety of that small pension, which was all that he had reserved of so many kingdoms. As without this sum, Charles could not dismiss his domestics with such rewards as their services merited, or his generosity had destined for them, he could not help expressing both surprise and dissatisfaction. At last the money was paid, and Charles having dismissed a great number of his domestics, whose attendance he thought would be superfluous or cumbersome in his retirement, he proceeded to Valladolid. There he took a last and tender leave of his two sisters, whom he would not permit to accompany him to his solitude, though they requested him with tears, not only that they might have the consolation of contributing by their attendance and care to mitigate or to sooth his sufferings, but that they might reap instruction and benefit by joining with him in those pious exercises, to which he had consecrated the remainder of his days. 1557. of his re treat. FROM Valladolid he continued his journey to Plazencia in The place Estremadura. He had passed through this place a great many years before, and having been struck at that time with the delightful situation of the monastery of St. Justus, belonging to the order of St. Jerome, not many miles distant from the town, he had then observed to some of his attendants, that this was a spot to which Dioclesian might have retired with pleasure. The impression had remained so strong on his mind, that he pitched upon it as the place of his own retreat. It was seated in a vale of no great extent, watered by a small brook, and surrounded by rising grounds, covered with lofty trees; from the nature of the soil, as well as the temperature of the climate, it was esteemed the most healthful and delicious situation in Spain. Some months before his resignation he had sent an architect thither, to add a new apartment to the monastery, for his accommodation; but he gave strict orders that the style of the building should be such as suited his present station, rather than his former dignity. It consisted only of six rooms, four of them in the c Strada de Bello Belg. lib. i. 9. XII. 1557. form of Friars cells, with naked walls; the other two, each BOOK twenty feet square, were hung with brown cloth, and furnished in the most simple manner. They were all on a level with the ground; with a door on one side into a garden, of which Charles himself had given the plan, and had filled it with various plants, which he intended to cultivate with his own hands. On the other side they communicated with the chapel of the monastery, in which he was to perform his devotions. Into this humble retreat, hardly sufficient for the comfortable accommodation of a private gentleman, did Charles enter, with twelve domestics only. He buried there, Feb. 24. in solitude and silence, his grandeur, his ambition, together with all those vast projects, which, during almost half a century, had alarmed and agitated Europe, filling every kingdom in it, by turns, with the terror of his arms, and the dread of being subdued by his power d. between Charles THE contrast between Charles's conduct and that of the Contrast Pope at this juncture, was so obvious, that it struck even the behathe most careless observers; nor was the comparison which viour of they made to the advantage of Paul. The former, a con- and the queror, born to reign, long accustomed to the splendour pope. which accompanies supreme power, and to those busy and interesting scenes in which an active ambition had engaged him, quitted the world at a period of life not far advanced, that he might close the evening of his days in tranquillity, and secure some interval for sober thought and serious recollection. The latter, a priest, who had passed the early part of his life in the shade of the schools, and in the study of the speculative sciences, who was seemingly so detached from the world, that he had shut himself up for many years in the solitude of a cloister, and who was not raised to the papal throne until he had reached the extremity of old age, discovered at once all the impetuosity of youthful ambition, and formed extensive schemes, in order to accomplish which he scrupled not to scatter the seeds of discord, and to kindle the flames of war, in every corner of Europe. But Paul, regardless of the opinion or censures of mankind, d Sandov. ii. 607. & Zuniga, 100. Thuan, lib. xvii. 609. VOL. III. BOOK held on his own course with his wonted arrogance and vioXII. lence. These, although they seemed already to have exceeded all bounds, rose to still a greater height, upon the arrival of the Duke of Guise in Italy. 1557. The duke of Guise leads the French army into Italy. The pope renews hostilities against Philip. Feb. 12. April 9. THAT which the two Princes of Lorrain foresaw and desired had happened. The Duke of Guise was intrusted with the command of the army appointed to march to the Pope's assistance. It consisted of twenty thousand men, of the best troops in the service of France. So high was the Duke's reputation, and such the general expectation of beholding some extraordinary exertion of his courage and abilities in a war into which he had precipitated his country, chiefly with the design of obtaining a field where he might display his own talents, that many of the French nobility who had no command in the troops employed, accompanied him as volunteers. This army passed the Alps in an inclement season, and advanced towards Rome, without any opposition from the Spaniards, who, as they were not strong enough to act in different parts, had collected all their forces in one body on the frontiers of Naples, for the defence of that kingdom. EMBOLDENED by the approach of the French, the Pope let loose all the fury of his resentment against Philip, which, notwithstanding the natural violence of his temper, prudential considerations had hitherto obliged him to keep under some restraint. He named commissioners, whom he empowered to pass judgment in the suit, which the consistorial advocate had commenced against Philip, in order to prove that he had forfeited the crown of Naples, by taking arms against the Holy See, of which he was a vassal. He recalled all the nuncios resident in the courts of Charles V. of Philip, or of any of their allies. This was levelled chiefly against Cardinal Pole, the papal legate in the court of England, whose great merit, in having contributed so successfully to reconcile that kingdom to the church of Rome, together with the expectation of farther services, which he might perform, was not sufficient to screen him from the resentment that he had incurred by his zealous endeavours to XII. 1557. establish peace between the house of Austria and France. BOOK He commanded an addition to be made to the anathemas annually denounced against the enemies of the church on Maundy-Thursday, whereby he inflicted the censure of excommunication on the authors of the late invasion of the ecclesiastical territories, whatever their rank or dignity might be; and, in consequence of this, the usual prayers for the Emperor were omitted next day in the Pope's chapel *. ry prepar BUT while the Pope indulged himself in those wild and His militachildish sallies of rage, either he neglected, or found that ations init exceeded his power, to take such measures as would have adequate. rendered his resentment really formidable, and fatal to his enemies. For when the Duke of Guise entered Rome, where he was received with a triumphal pomp, which would have been more suitable if he had been returning after having terminated the war with glory, than when he was going to begin it with a doubtful chance of success, he found none of the preparations for war in such forwardness as Cardinal Caraffa had promised, or he had expected. The papal troops were far inferior in number to the quota stipulated; no magazines sufficient for their subsistence were formed; nor was money for paying them provided. The Venetians, agreeably to that cautious maxim which the misfortunes of their state had first led them to adopt, and which was now become a fundamental principle in their policy, declared their resolution to preserve an exact neutrality, without taking any part in the quarrels of Princes, so far superior to themselves in power. The other Italian states were either openly united in league with Philip, or secretly wished success to his arms against a Pontiff, whose inconsiderate ambition had rendered Italy once more the seat of war. Guise's operations. THE Duke of Guise perceived that the whole weight of Duke of the war would devolve on the French troops under his command; and became sensible, though too late, how impru dent it is to rely, in the execution of great enterprises, on the aid of feeble allies. Pushed on, however, by the Pope's April 13. e Pal. lib. xiii. 180. Mem. de Ribier, ii. 678. |